


Knock Knock, Get The Door, It's Depression

by Living_On_My_Own



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own
Summary: Dear friend goodbyeNo tears in my eyesSo sad it endsAs it began
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Freddie's POV:

_So sad, her eyes, as it began._

I looked around, only wanting to make a mess out of this room. I wanted to throw everything around, to break every object that was breakable. I needed to break something, to get that pain out. But instead, I made a mess out of my head. I screamed and cried in a deep part of my brain, but none of these really came out. Nothing really happened.

I just listened to every words that came out of his mouth. And they weren't bad. They were true. And he just cared about me. They all cared about me, but I just couldn't help but take it badly in my head. Like every word was a weapon against me. Like he was talking to hurt me.

"You're not doing anything anymore, Fred."

I was sitting on the living room's couch. I kept staring at the open tv. There was no sound, just images of people. I didn't know what was the tv show. I just looked at it. I preferred to do that instead of facing him. I never liked watching tv anyway. Not anymore. I didn't like doing anything anymore.

"There's something going on in your head that's not right."

I wanted to yell at Brian to shut up. But it was like he was my mom, I didn't want to see him look at me with those eyes. The kind of eyes he wears when he hates me. The kind of eyes everyone seems to look at me with. Maybe I'm just crazy. I just can't see them in an other way.

"It's not okay. It needs to stop. Look at you, Freddie, you're not yourself anymore."

I continued staring at that stupid tv show. Everything was fucking stupid at this moment. Everything seemed horribly boring and stupid. Why wasn't anyone like before? Why was I feeling like this? It was like some sort of shadow was staying over my eyes, making everything look like a threat or a reason for me to cry.

I always cried these last weeks. For the stupidest things, or for absolutely nothing. I started crying when one of my records stopped working. Some other times, I felt this lump in my throat and I wanted badly to cry, but nothing came out. It was just hurting me, and I couldn't get anything out. Nothing but slightly blurry eyes. Nothing more. Someone told me I was just finding reasons to feel sad. That person was really dumb.

"You need to talk about it eventually."

I got up from where I was sitting without looking at him. I heard him sigh loudly. I climbed every stair with tons of effort. I walked all the way to my room and shut the door behind me. I put a vinyl on my turning table. The first song came, too happy. I skipped it. The second one, too fast. I skipped it. The next one, too everything. I skipped. And an other song started and I left it playing. It was slow, sad, perfect for my mood.

I heard my roommates laughing downstairs. Everything seemed too fucking happy around me! I wanted everyone to be in the same mood as me. I wanted silence, I wanted sounds around me, I wanted darkness in my room, I wanted it to be light, I wanted to be left alone, I wanted someone to be with me. I didn't really know what I really wanted.

I let myself fall on my mattress. My whole useless body sunk in it slowly. I closed my eyes before opening them again for no exact reason. I just kept trying to find a pleasurable position. Everything felt wrong, every object seemed too much. I felt too much in this room, in this house, in this city, in this life.

Every time I breathed in, I tried breathing deeper, getting more and more air. Trying to make the permanent tightness in my chest go away, but it didn't work. This was just an endless feeling. An endless process that I couldn't get out of. I wanted to be happy like I used to be.

"Fred?!" My name was called.

I sighed before answering.

"Yes?" I said as loud as I could.

"There's food here if you're hungry!" Roger yelled from downstairs.

I didn't answer. I turned on the right side of my bed. My back was facing my door. My ribcage was closing itself on my heart, trying to protect it from any blow. But from what blow? The only thing I was protecting my heart from was myself. I was only hurting myself with all these thoughts.

_I'd be better dead._

As soon as the horrid thought got through my head, I tried erasing it, like every other time it happened. It never really left me. It never completely went away. It always had a little space in my filled head.

The first time I thought about it, I got scared. Scared of its effects. I was scared of the space it would now take in my head. Maybe I was right to be afraid, because now every time I didn't feel good, it was the first thought that got through my head. And it never stopped.

My door was opened by Brian. I felt him walk around my bed before finally facing me. I pretended to sleep as I knew he would talk about another thing I did that was wrong. I heard him place a plate on my nightstand. He put my blanket on me and left my bedroom like he had never been there. After I heard him close the door, I finally opened my eyes and they landed on the meal beside me. It wasn't much, it was pastas since that's all everyone could do in this apartment. Well, everyone but me and Roger.

_One week later_

The music blasted in my ears. It was beautiful, but right now, I didn't like it. I didn't like anything we were doing. All these times I mocked Brian for his depressing songs. I seemed to like them all more right now.

I sat on the small couch of the recording room. I stared at nothing. I barely listened to anything that was going on. I did nothing. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to be here at all. I wanted to just walk away and have fun. But I couldn't have fun.

"Freddie?"

I turned my head to see Brian calling my name. It must have been a while since he started calling my name. I was too much in my head, I couldn't hear anything around me sometimes.

_You're not good enough for them._

"Yes?" I said through gritted teeth.

"What do think?" He asked me.

"It's great." I slightly smiled answering him.

He rolled slightly his eyes. I guessed he thought I wouldn't see it, but I did. He sat on a chair beside the chair. He turned finally to look at me in the eyes.

"Will you please do something? You've been sitting since the beginning of the session. We're not here to mope around." He told me.

_They deserve better._

I just started at him for a while.

"Are you okay Fred?" He asked me.

I looked away quickly. I didn't want to look at him anymore.

"I'm fine." I said almost harshly.

I cursed myself silently. I didn't know what was my problem. I was just tired of everything.

"Okay."

He got up and went to the other side of the glass to talk to John and Roger.

_One hour later_

Roger has finished his part of the track. He sat beside me. I didn't look at him. I avoided any kind of contact. I couldn't be close to them anymore. No, not knowing some close day, I wouldn't be here anymore. I couldn't let them close to me. Anyway, it was probably useless, why would they want to be close to me? I was a ruined person. Ruined in every part of myself.

"Don't you think John looks sad?" Roger asked me.

I finally laid my eyes on him. I hated these kind of thoughts they had. They thought everyone was depressed. Everyone, but me. They didn't care about me. I always wondered why it was me that they didn't care about. I tried to find reasons myself. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but at least I wasn't left in the dark about it.

_It's because you mean nothing to them._

"Maybe. Has he talked about what's going with Veronica?" I asked, trying not to let the fact that my throat was tightening showing.

Home. I wished I had one. Home was somewhere you felt comfortable in. Somewhere you wanted to go, because you felt loved and warm. Somewhere you'd never want to leave forever. I didn't know where was my home. I wished I could say with my band mates, but it wasn't true. I didn't feel loved. I was only one singer out of hundreds they could have found. Maybe they should change, replace the broken by a new shiny and happy singer. Everything would be better. They wouldn't have to complain about anything. I wouldn't have to live.

"No, he didn't talk about it. He seems a bit depressed since a few days." Roger said pensively.

I nodded looking away. I could feel small tears stinging my eyes and I needed to hide them.

"Want a beer? I'm gonna go get one for myself." I whispered to Roger.

I had no idea why I had whispered. I didn't have enough energy to talk loudly anymore. He nodded and I hurried to the alcohol stash of the studio. I took two beers, the stronger one for myself. I sat again beside Roger and gave him his bottle.

The rest of the session went slowly and boringly. Roger didn't talk more to me. Neither of them talked to me more. I just stayed sat on the couch and watched them work. I noticed how shocked they were when I never asked for them to change something. When I stayed silent, looking at them with too much things in my messed up head.

I only thought. Thought about my biggest dream at the moment. One where I got everything I wanted. Not the kind anyone would think. It could be a nightmare for anyone who cared. But no one cared.   
A dream where I'd be long gone. One where I could finally find peace and be happy. One where I'd be dead.

"Freddie?"

I looked up slowly to see Brian looking at me.

_They'll never want you._

"Roger, John and I are going out, okay?" He told me.

I knew it.

_They'll never want to be anywhere close to you._

"Okay." I answered looking at the now interesting floor.

"Will you be fine on your own?" John asked me.

"I'm not a kid, John." I spat.

I heard a little groan come out of Roger.

"I was only asking. No need to be rude about everything. If you're having a bad day, you don't have the right to lash out everything on us." The usually shy man replied harshly.

_They hate you and you deserve it._

Brian gave me the look I feared the most. The _I hate you_ look. No more word was said as they walked out, leaving me alone in this too big mess. I took all my things and walked out of this place I now hated. I walked home. The rain started pouring, at least my tears could be pretended as rain drop if anyone saw it.

There was no sun shining either in my heart and in London today. Only big dark and heavy clouds. I kicked the autumn leaves from under my feet furiously. Each of them flew because of the heavy wind, like every bits and pieces left of my happiness. Gone into the dark London night. 

It reminded me of when I was in London for the first time of my life. I hated my parents, I hated everything. I wanted to be back to my normal life in Zanzibar. I wanted to belong. My parents thought I was overreacting, but it was the first time in my life I had been feeling depressed, without knowing it. It had never happened against since now.

I was jealous of everything around me. Jealous of the smiles everyone was wearing today and any other day. I was jealous of the love that everyone could get right now, from the person that loved them. Jealous of the people that enjoyed being alive, that loved breathing. Jealous of the way my friends were happy without me. Jealous of the nights I didn't spend with them.

I arrived at the flat. I unlocked the door. I entered and closed the door behind me. The sadness didn't go away, like I thought it would when I was back in the apartment. It was painfully empty and cold.

_The next day_

An other day in the studio. An other opportunity for them to be mad at me. I stayed sat at my piano, playing endless melodies without listening to their complains about my loudness. I didn't look at them. I didn't bother reacting to any word they said. To any insult that was thrown at me. It didn't mean they wouldn't stay stuck in my head, but I didn't let them know it.

_Stupid_   
_Selfish_   
_Coward_

Maybe there were more, I didn't bother remembering more of them. I didn't need to, I already felt horrible enough, but what was the point of stopping myself to please them? There was absolutely nothing to lose. There was nothing left.

When the session ended, they didn't say goodbye. They didn't realise the mistake they had made. They didn't realise their last words to me would maybe be these. Insults. Insults full of hate. It probably didn't even matter to them anyway, why should I worry?

I took an empty sheet of paper from a pile important papers. I started writing anything that came to my head.

_So sad her eyes_   
_Smiling dark eyes_   
_So sad her eyes_   
_As it began_

_On such a breathless night as this_   
_Upon my brow the lightest kiss_   
_I walked alone_   
_And all around the air did say_   
_My lady soon will stir this way_   
_In sorrow known_   
_The White Queen walks and the night grows pale_   
_Stars of lovingness in her hair_

_Needing - unheard_   
_Pleading - one word_   
_So sad my eyes_   
_She cannot see_

_How did thee fare, what have thee seen_   
_The mother of the willow green_   
_I call her name_   
_And 'neath her window have I stayed_   
_I loved the footsteps that she made_   
_And when she came_   
_White Queen how my heart did ache_   
_And dry my lips no word would make_   
_So still I wait_

_My Goddess, hear my darkest fear_   
_I speak too late_   
_It's for evermore that I wait_

_Dear friend goodbye_   
_No tears in my eyes_   
_So sad it ends_   
_As it began_

Maybe one day it would make a song. Maybe not. But it sounded as tragic as beautiful. As tragic as my heart was feeling in this particular moment.

_1 hour_

They've been gone for two hours minutes. They must have gone to a bar or something, but why should I care? They didn't think of me. They never did. I hated that I cared about it. I hated that it still hurt me.

I found the stash of alcohol of the studio. There was maybe a dozen of beer bottles, a few bottles of wine and two bottles of vodka. I got out every single on of them. Now seemed the best time to get the most drunk I had ever been in my entire life. Who would care anyway?

I sat on my piano bench. After playing a few notes on the piano, I opened the first beer bottle and took the first sip of the night. The light alcohol made its way down my throat easily. I didn't like the taste of it. We were rich and we couldn't have good fucking beer.

The first sip seemed to be bigger than I thought when I noticed the bottle in my hand was now empty. I had no idea why I did that, but I threw the bottle on the floor, loving the loud shattering glass sound that it made. I was angry. At myself, at my band mates, at everything in this fucking world.

_30 minutes_

Every drop of beer was in my body. Every bottle was shattered on the floor. The feeling of dizziness slightly hit me. I felt numb about everything and everywhere in my body. I didn't get up one time, knowing it would end badly. I came up with drunk melodies on my instrument. I knew they wouldn't be anywhere near useful. Neither would I be.

I opened the first wine bottle. I noticed there were three of them. Too easy. It seemed to start being harder to take in my body. I hadn't eaten anything before so it sit badly in my stomach. At least it tasted good this time.

I tried shutting out my brain for a moment, but it wouldn't stop. So I drank more and more to stop it from running from one thought to another. It was too fucking tiring. I just wanted to be left in peace for one fucking time in my life, but nobody and nothing was agreeing to that.

_15 minutes_

I could just imagine them having fun in some type of bar. Talking about everything. Then coming back home to their girlfriends. Because they've got people to take care of. They've got people that love them and need them. They've got people that fucking love them.

I haven't got any of that. I haven't got anything good in my fucking life. Nobody cares about me or loves me. They all act like they fucking care and want me to be happy, but they don't. They never have.

I opened the first vodka bottle. I put the orifice of it against my lips. The strong liquid slid down my throat with slight difficulty. It didn't taste like anything anymore. It could I have been filled with water, it would have been the same as now.

My sight kept getting more blurry. I felt every ounce of alcohol in my body wanting to come out. I rushed to the bathroom immediately. I kicked opened unstably one of the stalls. I fell to my knees and let everything come out in the toilet. My throat burned painfully.

I noticed the bottom of the toilet being red. It was weird, I hadn't eaten anything red today. It left a metallic taste in my mouth. I just flushed the toilet and shakily walked back to my piano. Everything kept moving all around me. It wouldn't stop turning and spinning. It was making me even more dizzy.

_5 minutes_

There were only a few sips left in the last bottle of vodka. It was too late anyway. I couldn't let the guys come back to the studio tomorrow and see me in that state. I couldn't handle another confrontation. It was too much.

I finished the last drop of the liquor as quickly as possible. The room was now only a dark empty room. The shattered glass of every bottle of alcohol I drank was scattered all around me. An art piece. I wouldn't even try to get out of this little circle anymore. I didn't even know if I'd be able to stand up.

My head kept pounding painfully and I held it in my trembling hands with force. I crossed my legs tightly to keep them from shaking. The room felt suddenly extremely hot. I felt beads of sweat forming on my tense forehead. Tears fell down my face for the last time of the day. I was tired. Tired of everything in this fucking life.

_1 minute_

I crossed my arms on my piano and left my head on them. The metallic taste came back in my mouth almost making my mouth burn. I felt my body newly shiver of the cold that quickly hit me. I felt my chest tighten and burn.

I felt myself thinking of my band mates. The persons I always had relied on and believed would always be there when I needed them. The ones I thought I would never leave and they would never leave me. The persons I met one day and realised I needed them to live without knowing them.

_30 seconds_

I thought of my family. My mama, she had been there when I needed her to be. She treated me like I was valuable, like I was worth something. My papa, he was never accepting of what I had done, but he was still sometimes looking somewhat proud. I hoped it was pride. My sister, Kashmira, I loved her, she was always the best little sister possible.

_15 seconds_

I thought about the lover I never truly had. The one I dreamed of all my childhood and the one that was never present in my life. I waited years and years for this person to come and accept me as me and love me. Gosh, to love me with all their heart like I would love them back. I just wanted that.

_____

Everything turned black and silent. Life had never been so peaceful. The pain had went away. The worries were all gone. The invading thoughts had left. I was alone in this dark space, enjoying every second of it. And it felt so incredible. It didn't take long before I had lost all consciousness.

_So sad, it ends, as it began_


	2. Chapter 2

Brian's POV:

I grunted when I realised I didn't have my wallet on me. I had probably forgotten it at the studio. I guessed I was too angry with Freddie to even think properly. I hated how selfish he acted sometimes.

He seemed weird these past weeks. He barely talked to us anymore. Spent time with us only to work at the studio. And only when he worked with us at the studio. He always stayed silent. Freddie never used to be silent more than a few seconds.

I just could feel there was something with him. I sometimes caught myself staring at him, noticing there was no longer a little sparkle in his eyes. Noticing he didn't smile anymore. He didn't poke us until we'd do what he wanted anymore. He didn't annoy us all day long anymore.

Most of the days, he'd just stay in his room for hours and only come out to eat, he barely even ate. He'd ignore our calls for him. He'd ignore our laughters. He'd ignore us and he'd stay in his little bubble of misery.

And it's only right now, that everything came to sense. Every action, every word, every silence, every moment of numbness finally meant something. I knew what it was, because I used to live through it. I knew what it felt. What it felt to be depressed.

I couldn't comprehend what had escaped my mind every time I noticed his state. And now I hated myself for being so selfish and non comprehensive. For doing exactly the opposite of what he needed right now. He needed to be understood and listened.

I felt stupid. So fucking stupid, watching my friends dancing in this club, almost completely drunk. Me, flirting with other people, drinking to accentuate every ounce of happiness in my body. To make me feel at the top of the world. Because that's always how I wished to feel, and now I could. Because I was free, free from every drop of depression that once hit me.

And my best friend, the one I wanted to stay my entire life with, was probably having one of the worst nights of his life. He was alone. And I knew how toxic it was to be alone, to be left with only your thoughts and the suffocating silence. Nobody there to help you feel better. Nobody there to take you in their arms and say: 'Everything will be fine!' Nobody there to wipe away the tears that never stopped falling.

I felt my heart become heavier as I thought about Freddie. I felt the urge to just leave and go and make him feel better. I pushed through the filled crowd and finally reached John and Roger. Luckily enough, none of them were as drunk as I thought they were. They maybe had one or two drinks only.

I didn't tell them the real reason. I didn't say why I really wanted to rush home. I just yelled over the music at them that I felt too tired to party and I wanted to go back home. I didn't have neither my keys or my car, so they needed to go with me.

I drove, I didn't want us to have an accident. My heart was beating at the speed of light. I just wanted to be there for Freddie, at this exact moment. I didn't want to leave him to that pain, a pain I knew way too well. And I really didn't like to think about him living through it.

The moment I parked at the studio to get my keys, I felt something weird. A sensation in my gut telling me there was something that wasn't right. That something wasn't happening like it should be. I took John's keys to open the door of the building. I walked through the short hallway before opening the door that led to our own studio.

I walked to a living nightmare. Broken glass everywhere on the floor. Freddie, even more broken than the glass laying as a carpet in the studio, laying on the cold floor with blood falling down his half opened mouth. I had arrived way too late.

"Oh fuck." I panicked.

I fell on both of my knees in front of my best friend. I didn't care about the glass slowly cutting my legs. I pinched the skin of his elbow, hoping I was wrong, hoping he was only asleep. But he didn't flinch. He didn't wake up like I wanted him to. The little sheet of paper beside him didn't escape my view. I picked it up quickly.

"Shit, Fred. Shit." I cried as tears finally started taking place on my face.

I carefully placed him in my arms and carried him outside. I ran to the car, barely having time to say anything to the boys before opening the door of the backseat and lay him on it delicately.

"We need to take him to the hospital!" I snapped at them when I noticed how little they reacted.

Both of them sat with Freddie. Roger had his legs on him while John was holding his head, running his fingers through the singer's hair. I drove as quickly as possible. The tears blurred my vision, but I ignored it. We didn't need to have a car crash right now.

"What happened?" John asked so quietly I barely heard him.

"I don't know. I don't fucking know." I exclaimed.

"But I don't think it was an accident." I whispered, afraid to speak any louder as I knew my voice would break.

"Fucking hell." I heard Roger curse.

The rest of the night seemed blurry. Taking Freddie in the hospital, sitting on an uncomfortable seat for hours, wishing it wasn't too late, wishing the man I secretly loved would be alright, trying not to break down. I read the sheet of paper I had found. I never cried that much in my whole life. Roger and John tried comforting me. They tried telling me everything would be fine, that Freddie was a fighter. But in this situation, I knew Freddie wouldn't be choosing to fight. Not with those probable thoughts in his head.

I called Miami. I called Freddie's parents. They all joined us at the hospital. I wished to help Jer feel better when she heard the news, but I couldn't because I was feeling as destroyed as her.

The doctors talked to us. They told us things I wished I didn't know. They used words I never thought and never wanted to hear when talking about Freddie. They informed us he was in a coma. I hated that word, I hated how scary it sounded. They told us he could wake up in an hour, in a few days, in months, in year, or never. I stopped listening to them when those words came out of their mouth.

Jer and Bomi were the first ones to go and see him. They stayed half an hour. I didn't say anything when I noticed the tears marks on Freddie's father's face. I just got up, told the others I needed to see him alone, and walked to his room. The only sound in his room was the 'bip' sound of the machine monitoring his heartbeat. The only thing that could tell us he was still alive. I hated every part of this situation.

I sat on a plastic chair that was in the room. My heart beat out of my chest when I looked at my best friend. He looked peaceful and tired at the same time. I couldn't stop the tears falling. I took his cold hand in mine. I closed my eyes, trying to find the right words.

"I'm sorry, Freddie. I'm so fucking sorry. I was a coward. I've been so blind all this time. I should have known. I should have known that's what it was. I should have been there for you, we all should have been there for you. Y-you're loved, Fred. And I'm sorry you had to do this for anyone to notice there was something wrong. But I swear, I was gonna come to you. I was gonna be there for you. I told you I'd always be there for you. I told you you'd never be alone. I-I failed you. We all failed you." I cried.

I felt myself wet his delicate hand with my tears. I didn't stop my sobs as they quickly escaped my tight throat.

_It was all my fault_

"I love you." I whispered to him before getting up to kiss his warm forehead.

_One week later_

It had been one week. The days past slowly, my sleep time was short. I couldn't sleep anymore when I thought about Freddie. I had time to think about everything of this situation, to read over and over again those lyrics he wrote. They were too sad for my liking, well for anyone's liking.

Roger and John didn't talk much about it. We stopped recording, we stopped spending time together. I guessed it was their way of coping. I hated how it sounded, like he was gone. But he wasn't gone. He was still here, even if he wasn't fully with us.

I went countless times to see him. I hated leaving the hospital for more than an hour. I didn't want him waking up, alone, thinking we didn't care about him. I didn't want him thinking of any of the things I thought when I was at his place, or at least almost at his place. I was now relieved it never went that far with me. I knew hoping for the bad thoughts to not get through his head was too hopeful.

From time to time, I got myself thinking about everything he said, did, every moment of silence that was spent together or every time we went out without him. I wondered what went down his mind during our fights, during his moments of silence, during the time we weren't there. I always came with the same painful conclusion. Why didn't I realise sooner? Why did I let it go this far?

I, myself, had no answer for these questions.

_Another week later_

It felt weird going home everyday. No stormy disagreements, no singing Freddie, no fooling around friends. Only silence. It was lasting way too long. I never got the energy to do anything when I came back home. I just fell right asleep after eating. Each day, I was waking up the morning and getting ready before going back to the hospital.

I didn't go to clubs anymore, because what was there to party about? I only, some days, sat at Freddie's piano and played, trying to think about him playing happily, looking at us proudly after showing us his new masterpiece, as he called it. Other days, I went in his bedroom, sat at the edge of his bed, smelled the covers to feel closer to him. I remembered happy moments we used to have there. Times where he let me talk to him about planets, where I taught him more things on the guitar, where I listened to him talking to me about his day, about everything that went through his head. I loved to watch him when he talked, he always looked passionate about everything he said. His eyes would go wide and a small smile would be placed on his lips when he enjoyed the conversation. I just loved the happy and giggly Freddie.

And when I could, I visited him. It was the hardest part. I often took a seat beside him, took his hand in mine, talked to him about what was happening to the world, about the new things going on. I talked to him about Roger and John sometimes. I told him how much we missed him, how much he scared us and we wanted him back with us, not in a hospital bed, in these clothes he would surely call horrific.

I knew he probably would never hear, I just felt better talking to him. It made me feel like he somehow was still there no matter what. He wasn't giving up. And when everything got too much sometimes, I just talked to him like I used to. I imagined what he would answer, when he would say something stupid, or when he'd say that everything would be okay. Even if it was my time to say it, he deserved to be okay. He needed to come out of this and be happier.

I walked past everyone in this hospital to finally arrive to the room I was now used to come every single day. I didn't knock on the door like I used to when we were at the flat. I just opened the door. My heart fell again when I realised he still wasn't awake. I took the same chair, I took his hand again.

I talked to him about everything I felt like talking about. The minutes quickly changed into hours and it was getting late. I could still stay one or two hours before I got kicked out. I hated the visit hours. I wished I could sleep there, at his side.

I let go of his hand to rub my eyes. My eyelids had started getting heavier and they sometimes wanted to close. I heard a groan, I got surprised when it didn't come from myself. I opened my eyes slowly to see my best friend, I noticed his opened eyes and felt my heart beat out of my chest.

"F-Fred?" I called out.

His head turned and his eyes found mine. A barely noticeable smile formed on his lips. He stared for a few seconds before he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I pushed the button to call a nurse.

Not long after, a nurse came and did test on Freddie. She gave him some water to help his voice. It turned out he had no sequels to the unconscious state he was in. I was incredibly relieved. After a few minutes, she left the room and we were alone again.

"How long was I unconscious?" He asked me with a quite hoarse voice.

"Two weeks, Fred." I answered.

His eyes slightly widened.

"Wow." He slowly and quietly said.

_Two weeks later_

_Freddie's POV:_

_We'll be there for you. We always will._

Of course.

Roger heard me, but he didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to the desperation or the need for love in this moment when I talked to him. He began talking about Dominique. I listened to him, because I'll always listen to the ones I love. I listened when he talked, I noticed the love in his voice when he ranted about how much she was incredible.

"Do you want to order to eat and watch something on the tv while eating? Just us two?" I asked when he stopped talking, hoping he would say yes. I just needed someone to stay with me for a little while.

He looked at me and I knew he didn't listen to me. I could see in his eyes he didn't care. He didn't get it. I just needed somebody to listen to me! Why would nobody listen to anything I said when all I did was listening to everyone?

"I can't, Fred. I need to go see Dominique in a few minutes. I wanted to see her tonight. But Brian's here! I'm sure he'll cook something for you too if you ask him." He told me.

"Just hope he won't cook some vegetarian shit." He whispered.

I let out an airy 'haha'. He smiled at me.

"I need to go now!" He said before getting up and picking up his things.

I watched as he hurried out of the flat. He didn't say goodbye. He didn't care. I let a sad sigh escape my trembling lips. I got up from the couch and walked up the stairs to then enter my cold room. I closed my door behind myself.

Heavy tears fell down my face. I put my hands on my face, hoping no sobs would escape. I sat at the end of my bed. I hoped for everything to disappear, for every single thing that was bad to vanish in the air. But everything stayed at its place.

My mind was so wrecked, I expected everything around me to be wrecked as I was feeling. Everything was where it was supposed to be, in a normal state, making me feel even worse. Why would nobody listen to me?!

I couldn't breathe. My lungs were too tight and my environment too perfect. I looked at the perfectly white ceiling. I looked at my perfect furnitures. I noticed my perfectly made bed, my perfectly placed papers and note pads. My pens and pencils were perfectly placed in my perfect holder. The walls were painted perfectly in a perfect tone of yellow.

Why was I the only thing that wasn't perfect at all in this room?

"Fred?" I heard Brian say.

Before I could answer anything, my door opened. I wiped my tears away as quickly as possible. He slightly frowned looking at my face and I smiled at him.

"Are you okay?" He asked me.

"I'm perfectly fine, dear!" I exclaimed.

"I know you, Freddie. You were crying. What's wrong?" He said before sitting beside me on the bed.

I looked at him for a few seconds, wondering whether I should tell the truth or keep on with my fake smile. But I shouldn't have had to think about it to have my answer. He wouldn't care. He wouldn't listen. Nobody listens to what I have to say anymore.

"I swear I'm okay, Brian." I said before getting up.

I walked toward my door and walked down the stairs.

"Are you gonna cook us something, darling?" I yelled from downstairs.

I watched him go to the kitchen where ingredients were already laying on the counter.

"I'm making pesto pastas. Is it okay for your majesty?" He joked.

"It's perfect." I smiled.

I sat on the bar stools, watching him as he prepared the dinner. I laid my head on my hands, both of my elbows put down on the kitchen island. He looked beautiful while cooking. His curly hair going everywhere, and probably in the food, but I didn't care. His hips swayed to the rhythm of the music playing in the background.

"Is Roger eating with us?" He asked.

"No, he's with Dominique tonight. And before you ask, John is with Veronica. So it's just the two of us." I smiled.

"You're not going to Chrissie's, are you?" I asked when he didn't smile back.

I hoped he'd stay. I didn't want to be all alone. I didn't feel safe on my own. I didn't trust my own thoughts. When I was alone, the rooms were too cold, too dark. The silence was too deafening and suffocating.

"You can go if you want to. I'll be fine on my own." I tried hiding my voice that wanted to break.

I was sure he'd be happier spending his night with Chrissie. I was too boring. Too annoying. Too imperfect.

"I wasn't planning to. I don't think she's even available tonight."

If she was available, he would have went to see her.

"T-then, do you want to maybe- w-watch a movie with me? Eat dinner while watching it, just the two o-of us?" I asked with a trembling voice.

"Sure!" He smiled before turning to continue making our meal.

_Two hours later_

Brian and I finished eating. The movie finished too. We didn't talk. He probably thought I was boring. He probably preferred to go and be alone in his room than to spend time with me. Everything was more exciting than spending time with me.

"You know, Fred, about before..." Brian started.

I looked at him with slight confusion.

"I know you. I see it when there's something wrong. And I also know very well, that everything can be quite overwhelming, even when there's nothing that's supposed to overwhelm us. But sometimes, Freddie, you need to let go of those barriers that keep reinforcing day after day. You need to let go of that smile that isn't even a smile."

"It's okay to not be okay, Fred." He whispered.

I looked down, I felt tears stinging my eyes. He put delicately both of his hands on each of my cheeks. I looked up at him slowly. I wanted to, but I didn't get the chance to stop the tears from falling and the sobs to quiet down.

He pulled me in his arms. He rubbed my back with his warm hand. I held his waist tight.

After a few minutes he pulled away from my embrace. He brought his hands to my face again and removed the cold tears that kept falling. He lifted my head slightly, making me look at him.

"Tell me what's bugging you. What's going on through that pretty head of yours?" He asked lightly tapping my head with his finger.

Not really pretty.

"You all got what you always waited for. You've got girlfriends, a good life, happiness, a great family. You've got everything you worked hard for. And me, I worked so hard, I worked so hard that I didn't realise you all already had gotten what you wished for. I'm still waiting for those things, Brian. For an accepting family, a great boyfriend, happiness. And I just keep thinking that, you all got what you wanted, but all I've got is you guys. So when you'll have enough to live with me and the others and that you'll want to build your own family, to move with the person you love, I'll have nothing left. Queen will break up, and I'll be all on my own again." He didn't interrupt me, he didn't talk. He only listened.

"Because no one wants me, Brian! I'm just a burden on everyone. I'll never be enough for any of you. You all are so much better than I am. You could get anybody out there, and me, I have to put my whole life in this just to receive a little amount of love." I told him.

He listened. He listened while I ranted and talked about everything that was bothering me for a long time. He let me say what I needed to say. He looked at me as if he understood.

"A-and the other day, when I started drinking, I just couldn't stop thinking tha-that it didn't matter whether I was still here or not. That none of you would care if I was gone." I whispered barely looking at him.

He stared at me for a while. He lifted my head up with two of his fingers. He slowly leaned in. My heartbeat was going incredibly fast. His lips found mine and we were kissing. I put my hands on his waist and he put me on his lap. I wrapped loosely my arms around his neck, letting him deepen the kiss. He finally pulled away.

"I love you." He told me, looking in my eyes.

I brought him closer to me if it even was possible, and I put my head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." I whispered against his neck.

"It's been a while since I wanted to tell you that. It's been a while since I broke up with Chrissie. It's been a while since I noticed there was something wrong going on. And I'm sorry I wasn't quicker to be there for you."

And like you would see in a movie, I felt the pain in my chest loosen and finally go away. I let my lips form a smile, now a true smile. I put my hands in his curly and soft hair. I wrapped a strand of his hair around my finger. I didn't stop looking in his hazel eyes.

"You're so beautiful." I heard Brian say quietly.

"I was gonna say it first, you just beat me to it, love." I whispered.

He laughed lightly. He pulled me down with himself. We both laid on the uncomfortable couch. I didn't care about it. I only cared about the fact that my head was laying on his chest that kept moving up and down, either because of his breathing or because of his occasional warm laughs. He wrapped his arms tightly around me. I felt so fuzzy.

I was finally happy.


End file.
